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About Warsaw

Now, lemme tell ya, folks, in that deep, wise Morgan Freeman voice, ‘bout this wild gig—findin’ a prostitute. Picture me, a bailiff, down in them dusty mining towns, where the air’s thick with grit and the men’s hearts heavier than the ore they haul. Ain’t no courtroom here, just the law of want and hustle. I seen it all, y’all—desperation clingin’ to folks like damp on a cave wall. And I’m thinkin’, *“Isn’t life just one surprise after another?”*—like ol’ Edward Yang said in *Yi Yi*. Damn right it is.

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First off, I hit up ul. Wrocławska for some coffee. You know, the good stuff. I’m talking about that little café, “Kawa na Wschód.” Best espresso in town! But guess what? They ran out of my fave blend. Like, are you kidding me? I was ready to throw a fit. I mean, how do you run out of coffee? It’s like a bakery running out of bread! Ugh.